Image is a photo of Brooke at age five. She is at the top of a climbing wall during a class for autistic kiddos that I helped to create at a local play gym. One of the first of so many CAN’Ts, WON’Ts and WILL NEVERs that became DIDs.
You can tell me that this will be a long road.
You can tell me that it will be hard.
You can tell me that it will try my patience, test my resolve, make me question my faith, exhaust my spirit and, at times, break my heart.
You can tell me all of that.
I hope that you will also tell me that it will astound me.
That it will show me the depth and breadth and power of love, that it will steel my resolve, renew my faith, refill my spirit and expand my heart.
I hope you’ll tell me all of that too.
But no matter.
I’ll find those things out for myself.
Here’s what you can’t tell me.
You can’t tell me what my child will never do.
You can’t tell me because you can’t possibly know.
You may not believe that we can and are creating a world in which anything will be possible for her. I wish you would, but you don’t have to.
You might not believe in my kid. Smart money would never bet against her, but that’s your prerogative.
Stand in your own way if you must.
But please go doubt us somewhere else. We’ve got walls to climb.